Page 37 of Drift
We rolled out slowly, the clubhouse fading in the mirrors until it was just dust and distance.
Despite the wind whipping past us, the silence between us stayed heavy. Charged. Every few miles, I glanced in the mirror. Her hair streamed behind her like gold silk, her eyes hidden under the visor, her lips parted as she breathed in the warm air.
Her hold tightened each time we hit a curve, her body molding to mine, and I felt it everywhere.
The highway stretched ahead—empty and sun-washed. The farther we rode, the quieter my head got.
By the time the ocean breeze reached us, I’d almost forgotten we were running from something.
Almost.
We took an unconventional route toward Wild Oak Island, which turned out to be more of a peninsula. After driving for an hour and losing any possible tails, we pulled into an overlook where the truck and Tyre were waiting.
He held his hand out for the keys to my Harley, and I reached over, giving him a deadly glare. “One scratch, and you’ll be sucking your food through a straw.”
Tyre rolled his eyes. “I’d have to be alive to eat through a straw.”
“True,” I agreed casually, dropping the keys into his waiting palm.
He’d left the truck running, so I helped Alanna into her seat, trying my best to ignore the delectable curve of her ass as I boosted her up.
Then I rounded the back of the truck, pausing for a minute to…deflate…before getting into the driver’s seat and pulling back out onto the deserted highway.
The road narrowed the farther we went, carving through a stretch of palmettos and scrub pine that leaned toward the coast like they were bracing against the wind. Gravel crunched under the truck tires as we turned onto a less populated road.
By the time the brush thinned and the dunes rose into view, the scent of salt and seaweed had worked its way into the cab. Though it didn’t cover the smell of vanilla wafting to my nose. A small cottage came into sight—whitewashed siding weathered to a soft gray, wraparound porch half hidden behind wild sea grass. The windows caught the fading light and threw it back in fractured glints of gold.
“Beach house,” I explained as I turned onto the narrow drive. “Closest neighbor’s about a mile away. Cameras cover the approach, and there’s a sensor grid in the dunes. No one gets near without us knowing.”
Alanna’s gaze stayed on the house as we pulled up. “It’s beautiful.”
I shrugged. The house wasn’t meant to be beautiful. It was meant to be safe—thick walls, clear exits, and everything stripped down to what mattered. But I liked that she saw something else in it.
When I parked and cut the engine, the sudden quiet felt heavy. Only the surf in the distance broke the silence, rolling against the sand in deep, steady pulses.
I climbed out and went around to open her door. She slid down, her sneakers hitting the gravel with a soft crunch. The wind lifted her hair, brushing strands across her cheek, and before I could catch myself, I tucked them back behind her ear.Shit.Spinning around before she could react, I marched to the front of the house.
We had a caretaker who lived not too far away. He kept the place clean and ensured the security measures were in working order, making it ready for use whenever needed.
The living room opened into a small kitchen and a short hall leading to the back. The wood floors were pale, the walls sand-colored, and the furniture was a soft blue. Everything was neat, simple, and clean.
Alanna was staring at the single bedroom visible through the open door in the hall. “Um, is there another room hiding here somewhere?”
“Nope.” I set my bag down beside the couch.
Alanna’s eyes drifted to the sofa—a narrow, battered thing that had seen better decades. “Where am I sleeping?”
I jerked my chin toward the bedroom. “You take the bed.”
She turned to face me, crossing her arms. “Then where are you sleeping?”
“Couch.”
Her brow arched. “Bullshit.”
That earned a slow lift of my eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
“You won’t fit on that thing.” She gestured at the piece of furniture as if it had personally offended her. “And I’ll feel terrible when you wake up twisted into a pretzel with all your knots and kinks.”
